Six Days on the Road

OK, it wasn’t six days on the road. It was actually ten. Sort of.

And I’ve been playing catch-up ever since!

I’ve been out here in Michigan now since the middle of April, but my wife was still in Maine working until the school year ended. Then, she was going to pack up our belongings, so that we could then load up the moving truck and head west. My part of all of this was to fly back, put the last little bit into the truck, and then drive it.

What is that saying? Oh yeah: The best laid-plans of mice and men often go awry.

Jacob's Baptism
Jacob’s Baptism
Changes in my initial plan happened long before I returned to Maine. The first Baptism of my Grandson was scheduled for the same weekend. Now obviously I was going to be there, so that added a couple of days. Which was a good thing, as the packing of the house, and subsequent packing of the truck, fell way behind schedule.

It’s amazing how much stuff you accumulate over the years.

Without boring you with all the gory details, I arrived in Maine late Friday night, but didn’t start the journey westward until late Wednesday night. After scheduled family stops (now backed up to Thursday and Friday), we finally hit the road Saturday morning.

During previous moves, I’d driven 26-foot moving trucks, so I wasn’t worried about the long drive. Weekend traffic, however, was an unknown factor that I would have to deal with. Fortunately, I was driving against the bulk of the traffic, so we had no major issues during the drive.

And the truck itself gave us absolutely no issues. In one of my previous moves, I’ve had to deal with trucks that we had to swap out part way through the move (king pins are an important part of the steering operation of trucks, and when they go bad, there are times when you steer and the big, heavy truck you’re driving doesn’t exactly go where you want it to) and trucks that loved to eat oil (one or two quarts of oil every gas stop), but this one ran perfectly.

We arrived back in Michigan Sunday morning, and the Upper Peninsula late Sunday afternoon. Sunday night, my wife saw our apartment for the first time.

It took us three days to unload, and we think we managed to get most of the house stuff in to the apartment, along with most of the storage stuff in to the nearby storage building. I’m sure as we continue the long unpacking process, we’ll be shuttling items back and forth between the two.

And if all goes well, I plan to get back into a regular rhythm of posting to my blog. I know it’s been very haphazard since I’ve arrived here in the U.P., but now that my move is complete and I’m mostly settled in at work, I plan to make the time.

You, my dear reader, deserve nothing less.

Wait, what was that saying again?

Small Town

This past weekend, I had the chance to get out into the community.

Friday afternoon, I was at a local motorcycle dealership. Obviously, they wanted to sell some motorcycles and four-wheelers and accessories. But they also set up a small track to let kids go out and ride kid-sized motorbikes. They even had one that had training wheels mounted to it.

The kids had a blast! Some were very proficient bike riders already, but many were first time riders and most of them had a great time on the bikes.

Then on Saturday, folks got together to help clean up the community. Some went up and down the main street in town, while others went to the park to help start the process of cleaning up what the snows of winter hid from sight for so long.

Parents showed up, bringing along their kids and even grandkids to help clean up and give back to their city. After the cleanup, everyone got back together for hamburgers and hot dogs and prizes donated by community stores.

This is what small town America is all about. Getting together to help out while passing on to the next generation the character building of taking care of and giving back to their communities.

And it continues into this week. Wednesday, an Honor Flight will take over 70 World War II, Korean and Vietnam Veterans to Washington, DC to see the various Memorials, along with a trip to Arlington National Cemetery.

This is small town America at it’s finest. Taking care. Giving back. Honoring those who did what they had to do.

While I was not born here in the Upper Peninsula of Michigan, I grew up in a small town. I learned very young to respect, and to take care, and to do whatever you could to help.

I tip my hat to everyone, everywhere, who help out whenever they can. Even those who didn’t come from a small town.